


Reflections of the Source

by Olukanai



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Cute, F/M, FFxivWrite2020, Feelings, Friendship, Fun, Injury, Injury Recovery, Love Confessions, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 20,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26248066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olukanai/pseuds/Olukanai
Summary: Collection of entries for Tumblr's annual FFXIVWrite2020. Updated as prompts are finished. Contains major spoilers for Patch 5.3, so don't read if you don't want to be spoiled. Most entries are one shots but a few can connect.Up to Date: Prompt #27: Splinter
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, Baidur/OC, Severian Lyctor & Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light, Urianger Augurelt & Warrior of Light, Urianger Augurelt/Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light & Estinien Wyrmblood, Warrior of Light & Hilda Ware, Warrior of Light & Thancred Waters, Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters
Comments: 16
Kudos: 57
Collections: Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched Bookclub FFXIV-Writes 2020 Collection





	1. Crux (Urianger/WoL)

**_Crux_ **

_-noun_

**a vital, basic, decisive, or pivotal point**

* * *

Her heart beat faster as she stared at the floor. She could feel the heat on her face, blazing down her chest to where her heart beat painfully. The Warrior could hear the blood rushing through her ears and she was sure that she would expire if left like that for very long, but she could not bring herself to look up. It had felt like forever before she heard movement and saw his long black robes stop in front of her. He had walked forward slowly without a word after her slip up, she could tell from the lack of jangling from his astrologian robes. 

“What didst thou say?” Urianger asked quietly as he placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

She was going to pass out, she was sure of it. “I… I was saying that, uh,” she fumbled mindlessly to the actual subject of the conversation before it went downhill. “I was saying that I appreciate you lending me some of your tomes.” She paused for a moment as she heard him shift in front of her, feeling his hand leave her shoulder. She missed its presence yet still refused to meet his eyes. “And t-that I would be happy to gather any that you may require from the First. If you so wish it.” 

He gave a hum in response, she heard the small jingling of his jewelry, and he asked quietly, “And what of that which thou sayest is ‘one of the reasons I love you’?” She squirmed in place, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She knew it wasn’t likely in the Rising Stones, but she could wish. “Was it in jest?” he asked, his voice even quieter, uncertainty painting his tone. 

The Warrior knew she could have shrugged it off as a joke had she not stammered and silenced herself from speaking the moment it happened. She had seen the wide-eyed, though still smiling, look on his face before becoming completely mortified at what she had let slip, and resolved to study the quality of the stones which served as flooring for their headquarters. She thought for a moment, becoming very still. Taking a deep breath she resolved to whatever conversation this led to. Urianger was her confidant, her best friend. If there was anyone she could have a reasonable conversation with about her feelings, it was him. It didn’t help her feel any less embarrassed but she slowly and reluctantly shook her head. 

She heard the jewels on his robes shift as he lifted his hand to her chin. “Then, prithee, allow me…” He gently lifted her head up to face him. He was smiling at her gently,clearly not bothered by the new information. Her eyes widened as he leaned forward and placed his lips gently against her forehead, giving her a tender kiss. She could feel his lips brushing her skin as he spoke, “If thou wouldst worry about my reaction to such revelations,” he paused and leaned back to look at her face, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “Thee will find thy feelings not unrequited.” 

She looked at him in shock as he patiently smiled at her. It baffled her, Urianger welcomed her love. He had feelings for her. Tears welled in her eyes at the relief she felt. Dearest Urianger. _Her_ Urianger. His smile widened as he recognized the relief on her face, and she threw her arms around him. Chuckling, he wrapped his arms around her. “My heart hath ever belonged to thee, my dearest and truest friend. Thy feelings are most welcome.” She was crying in happiness and relief, burying her face into his chest and clutching him to her. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to slip up sometimes, maybe this new dynamic between them would offer some solace to her weary heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Tis a wee thing. Urianger makes my brain uncertain with his speech. >_< I took some out but I hope I did him justice at least somewhat with the sparse dialogue.


	2. Sway (Urianger/WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This kind of got away from me. But it was fun. :)

**Sway**

-verb

**Move or cause to move slowly or rhythmically backward and forward or from side to side.**

* * *

The Warrior of Light huffed as she adjusted the neckline of the gown she was wearing, yet again. She felt absolutely ridiculous. A loud pounding on the door made her jump. “They _will_ be wondering where you are if you don’t come out soon,” Alisaie’s voice sounded muffled through the door. Taking one last look at herself in the mirror, she sighed and reluctantly made her way to the door. Pulling it open, Alisaie’s face brightened in surprise and she gave the warrior a pleased smile. “You do look wonderful. You’ll be the talk of all of Ishgard, for years to come.” The warrior frowned at that even as she mumbled a thank you, but she didn’t move from the doorway. “Do I have to go? I mean, technically it’s a party for you all.” Alisaie crossed her arms as she shifted her weight to one hip. The younger mage was dressed in her own ball gown, a beautiful crimson garment that the warrior had only seen once, earlier that day. Giving Alisaie a smile, she tried halfheartedly to avoid the lecture she knew was coming. “You look beautiful Alisaie, the color suits you,” she said, then grinned, “did you manage to sneak the trousers in?” With a wicked, answering grin, Alisaie leaned down and in a very unladylike way hiked one corner of her dress up to reveal a pair of cotton trousers, that ended just above her knee, underneath. The warrior laughed, “If only I could do the same.” She watched as the young Elezen woman rearranged her skirts into position. Looking up at the warrior, she said, “I know it’s not something either of us are wont to do, but for appearances’ sake, we must.” She scrunched her nose, “Oh gods I sound like Alphinaud.” Shaking her head she looked at the older woman, “Besides, I know the Fortemps miss you terribly.” The warrior hung her head at that. It was the main reason she was here, attending the gathering. Edmont de Fortemps was hosting the celebrations to welcome the Scions back in Ishgard. They were family to her, and she had missed them dearly while away. Sighing once again, she looked up at Alisaie, “Alright, I’m ready.” The younger woman smiled then took her arm. “Right this way, my Lady,” she said in a voice that was meant to imitate her brother, earning her a laugh from her companion. 

Alisaie led them through the halls and into the ballroom. The ball itself was but one part of the celebration, less than formal in Ishgardian standards, mostly composed of those with high social standing. That said, the warrior thought that she had caught a glimpse of a very bored looking Hilda as she entered the room. She blushed and felt Alisaie’s hold on her arm tighten as they began to hear excited murmurs and whispers as those around had started to turn and notice their presence. One Elezen man smiled delightedly and turned to his companion, “Just look at her!” Another older Elezen woman, wearing the colors of a high house spoke in loud, excited whispers, “Anyone here would be lucky to have the Warrior! A proper woman like that would bring any family honor.” Thankfully she could see where Alisaie was hurrying them, she could see Edmont along with Aymeric, Alphinaud, and Y’shtola. They seemed to be entertaining a small group as she and Alisaie approached. Letting the warrior’s arm drop, Alisaie waved down a passing server and thanked him as he handed her two glasses. The warrior had started to scan the crowd for their other companions, as Alisaie handed her a glass. “Trust me, we might need it,” the woman said, downing half of hers almost at once. The warrior laughed and continued to look around the room. There were both familiar and unfamiliar faces in the crowd, a few couples dancing on the floor gracefully, and a few groupings around the edges of the beautifully polished dance floor. There seemed to be a larger crowd past where Edmont and her friends were that she wondered about. She caught Aliphinaud’s eye as she looked past him and gave a small smile at his smile and nod. She could just barely start to hear him wrap up the conversation with the other guests. Continuing her search she almost spit out a sip of her drink in laughter as she spied G’raha and Thancred across the room. Alisaie leaned over to see what she was looking at and chuckled. G’raha was surrounded by a handful of admirers and the miqo’te’s uncertainty was clear in the way his ears folded and tail swished nervously. Thancred was leaning against the wall a few feet away, obviously enjoying the scene, watching with a small smirk on his face as G’raha turned the prospective suitors down with a red face. It seemed Thancred had rejected his share of girls, judging from the pouty looks on a few women’s faces that kept looking at him longingly. The warrior smiled to herself, Thancred had changed but he was okay. His gaze had met hers as he skimmed over the crowd himself. Raising his eyebrows as he looked her over, he smiled and gave her a thumbs up, she laughed and raised her drink to him with her own nod, earning herself a shake of his head as he winked at her and turned back to save poor G’raha. 

The warrior turned back to Alisaie as she felt her pull her arm again. Turning, she ignored the voices of the people leaving the former Count’s side, and made her way to her friends alongside Alisaie. When Edmont saw her, the smile he gave her lit up his face and he opened his arms. She felt so relieved to see him and smiled so widely it hurt her face as she walked into his embrace. She knew it wasn’t appropriate in such a formal setting by Ishgardian standards but neither of them could care. After pulling her tightly into the embrace for a moment, Edmont leaned back and looked at her. “You look radiant my dear,” he said gently. She smiled at him, this was her father in so many ways and his words made her feel beautiful in that moment instead of ridiculous. The warm feeling of family passed slightly as she leaned back and looked to her friends. They were family too though. Aymeric reached for her hand as she left Edmont. He raised it to his lips in a customary kiss as he smiled. “‘Tis good to see you hale and whole my friend. When Master Alphinad told me of the events that transpired, I was surprised to say the least.” He released her hand, “You do look wonderful this evening, and I would hope to hear some tales of your own before the night is over.” The warrior laughed at him, “I shall do my best to entertain.” She looked over to Y’shtola and Alphinaud. Y’shtola was wearing a pair of dress robes that Tataru had made for her when the mage had claimed she did not simply wear dresses for fashion’s sake. The dark black fabric was similar to a gown but still gave her a range of movement and was reminiscent of her own black robes. “And you look positively magical Y’shtola,” the warrior said to her with a small grin.Y’shtola gave her a small smile, the mirth making her eyes crinkle. “Alas we cannot all adorn dress wear as armor.” Alphinaud chuckled at their banter. He was dressed nicely in a more Ishgardian inspired version of his normal clothes. Catching her gaze, he laughed, “Well Tataru is certainly inspired by our new needs for formal wear.” Smiling, the warrior took his hand, “It looks good on you.” He blushed and bowed, holding her hand in front of him, “Why thank you, milady.” Furrowing her brows as he let her hand go, she glanced around the room once more. There was someone missing. “Where’s Urianger?” 

At the question, Y’shtola raised her hand to her mouth as she stifled a laugh. Alphinaud also grinned, causing the warrior to raise one eyebrow. Y’shtola answered, “It seems our friend has been overwhelmed tonight. The Archon, while unmasked, apparently has his fair share of suitors.” She turned away to look at the larger crowd the warrior had noticed earlier. Standing up taller to see, she did spot an uncomfortable looking Urianger, thankfully accompanied by Artoirel. The young Count seemed to be trying to dissuade Urianger’s suitors, but many kept vying for his attention. The warrior frowned as she stopped straining to see, a pang of hurt going through her chest. There were so many people interested in Urianger. She knew she should be happy for him, he was her best friend, but the little part of her heart that loved him was slightly jealous. Seeing the look on her face, Edmont spoke aloud to the group,”The dancing is to start in earnest soon. Lady Y’shtola and Master Alphinaud tell me that Master Urianger has been helping teach you? Why not save him from Artoirel and do me the honor of opening the dancing?” The warrior looked at Edmont with wide eyes, earning her a gentle smile. She nodded slowly as he offered her his arm. Y’shtola and Aymeric moved to let them through as they made their way toward Artoirel and Urianger. “Do not fret so, my dear,” Edmont told her as he led her to the others. She looked up at him. “You are a kind soul and a good heart, if you would permit me to say, I think you need not worry.” She was confused but her face flushed. Surely he didn’t know about her feelings for Urianger? Or had she been more obvious than she thought. Reaching the small group, Edmont tapped his cane on the floor loudly as he set it to rest, “Excuse me.” His voice was loud enough to be heard over the quiet conversation of the group and they quieted and turned to look at them. The warrior saw Artoirel’s smile at her appearance but she was more focused on Urianger. He had also undergone a makeover courtesy of Tataru. He also wore dress robes, the material a higher quality than what he normally wore, the most obvious change was a fitted jacket, made with similar embellishments to the jewelry he wore over his astrologian robes. Said jewelry still hung over the skirt of the robes, giving Urianger a regal and mystical appearance. She blushed as she realized her wide-eyed stare was mirrored in his own gaze. A few of the guests around them started to whisper. Edmont looked over them and spoke to Artoirel. “It is almost time to officially start the dancing. I was wondering if your sister and her fellow Scion here would be so kind as to start us off.” Artoirel smiled and looked at Urianger. “Would you honor us with this first dance, Master Urianger?” Urianger looked to Artoirel with a nod, then approached Edmont. Bowing to him, he spoke, “‘Twould be an honor to open for such a humbling occasion such as this.” 

Edmont nodded, then with a smile he handed her arm to Urianger’s outstretched hand. The warrior blushed as Urianger brushed his lips across the back of her hand before standing and letting her place it on his arm as he started to lead her to the dance floor. She could feel the heat across her face as she took in all the people watching them and talking. It was true, Urianger had been teaching her to dance in the days leading up to the celebrations. She had not known anything about dancing and they had spent hours in the Rising Stones trying to teach her how to move gracefully and not step on his toes. He was the only one she felt comfortable enough to dance with still, mortified at the idea of _injuring_ one of her comrades and dear friends by simply dancing with them. She noticed a few other couples joining them on the floor, Urianger had explained previously that for her nervousness, they would have a few others also open with them, to which she was grateful. He led her forward and she turned to face him once they were in position. He was standing closer to her than before and she was nervous, biting her lip, she looked around at all the people in the large room before looking back up at Urianger. He smiled down at her. “Thy radiance out shineth all others this evening.” She looked at him in surprise. “Thy beauty hath always paled others’ around it, but in scenarios such as these, it doth overshadow all others’.” She blushed and smiled sweetly at him. “Thank you, Urianger.” He nodded then their dance started. She was stiff as they started, nerves causing her to miss a step not very long after starting. “‘Tis only thee... and I.” She looked up from her feet to his face. She tilted her head to the side in question at his words. He was looking at her and continued to lead them through the dance. “‘Tis only us, practicing in the Rising Stones. Twirling and spinning amongst tomes strewn over dusty furnishings in thy chambers.” He pulled her closer to him then and she watched him smile. “At any moment, Mistress Tataru willst appear and ask if we would like a cup of tea. She wouldst bustle about and claim that our practice would be most tiring, attempting to halt our activity with an excuse to rest.” She smiled at him, “I don’t think Tataru would like anything she does to be described as ‘bustling’.” He gently spun her away from him with ease, letting her twirl away fully before pulling her against him when she came back to him. “Thou speaketh true. But, mine attempts at distraction proved most fortuitous.” She blinked once at him then looked around them. The opening dances were over. There were far more couples on the floor now and not so many eyes were on her anymore as the crowd danced with their own partners. He had distracted her so thoroughly with reminders of their practice that she didn’t even notice what was happening around them. Looking back up to him, she smiled, ”Thank you very much, Urianger.” He dipped his head, nodding, still holding her against his chest as they spun in small circles, not truly dancing but staying on the floor. They were in their own small world, where it was just them in the middle of all the dancers, swaying to the music. She hugged him then and he wrapped his arms around her, burying her face in his jacket, she decided that she would tell him soon. She would tell him how much he means to her. For now, she would let the calming swaying motion soothe her as she relaxed into his arms. 


	3. Muster (Urianger/WoL)

**Muster**

-transitive verb

**Assemble (troops), especially for inspection or in preparation for battle.**

* * *

The Tempest felt unbearably cold as she huddled in a nook of the wet cave wall. The Warrior watched, unseeing, as her friends made their preparations and settled down to rest for a few bells. She had settled away from them, both not to make them worry for her well-being, but also for the fear that if she turned now, they would be her first casualties. She winced and curled in on herself, her already blurred vision flashing, as something cracked slightly inside her. Closing her eyes and leaning back, she waited for it to pass and thought about their current situation. There was no guarantee that any of them would survive this, least of all her. The Light already was overbearing and she felt like she was splitting at the edges, and her thoughts lost focus as she idly wondered if that’s what it felt like to turn into a Sin Eater. Having yourself split open and all the Light pouring forth. She was distracted by the thought as she vaguely heard steps approaching. Cracking her eyes open she focused through the haze to see Urianger standing in front of her. “If thou wouldst find my company amenable, I wouldst join thee,” he says, gesturing to her seated position on the ground. Smiling up at him tiredly, “Of course Urianger, you are always welcome.” She patted the ground beside her as he sat down, close enough that the skirts of his robes lay against her leg. Once he was just settled, he glanced at their companions before asking, “How art thou faring?” She looked over to him slowly. “As well as can be, I suppose. I can’t really sense much of anything other than cold.” She glanced around the cave at the way the water’s shadows flickered across the wall. He nodded, “‘Tis a place I suspect thou wouldst enjoy. The colors that shineth throughout the tempest thou wouldst find entrancing and emotive.” She smiled at him, then took his hand in hers. “Into the serpent’s den we roam then. At least the place sounds beautiful, it looks so from what I can tell, but there’s a haze over everything.” She let her thought wander for a moment, thinking of the Light within her. She looked down at where she held his hand and gently pulled it across to rest on her lap, then took her other and wrapped her hands around his, squeezing in reassurance. 

She angled herself so that she could face him fully. Holding his hand tightly, she smiled up at him. “Urianger….. My dearest, truest friend,” she said it slowly, her voice constricting with emotion. He leaned toward her slightly and smiled, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze. She looked down at their conjoined hands and smiled sadly. “If,” she started but paused for a moment then looked back up at him, “If I die-” His face was serious, and his voice stern, “Nay.” She shook her head at him, “Urianger, please listen, if I die, and we know it may happen, I need…” She trailed off to look down at their hands, this was proving more difficult than she thought. She noticed his other hand had joined them and she briefly wondered when it had happened. Tears welled in her eyes but did not fall. “I need you to know how important you are to me,” she said quietly, her voice breaking from the emotion and strain on her body. She watched as his hands squeezed her own, and one thumb brushed across their joined fingers. Gathering her courage she looked back up at his face, and her heart broke as she took in his expression. Urianger rarely looked like he would, or did, lose composure, but he looked as if he were to start weeping. A frown set on his face and eyes shining with their own wetness. Squeezing their hands, she smiled at him as a few tears ran down her face. “You are my truest confidant, my dearest friend and comrade. I would not have felt so welcomed into this family if it had not been for you.” She gave a watery chuckle at his small smile. Looking down at their hands while she gently squeezed them for a moment, she continued. “You have been my pillar,” she looked up at him, dropping her smile while she tried to find the words, “my companion and you have been… _more_.” Looking up again, she watched as he let out a shuddering breath, a few of his own tears spilling over. The warrior smiled gently at him, and lifted one hand to his cheek, softly wiping away a few tears. He lifted his own hand and pressed hers against his face. He closed his eyes and spoke softly, “Thy hath ever held my heart and all its trappings.” She laughed. And he smiled at her, reopening his eyes and turning to place a kiss to her palm. For the moment, that was enough. They didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, nor could words express what she felt now. After. She would wait, and if everything somehow turned out well, then she would think about it, but for right now, it was enough. 


	4. Clinch (Emet-Selch/WoL)

**Clinch**

-transitive verb

**Grapple at close quarters, especially (of boxers) so as to be too closely engaged for full-arm blows.**

* * *

She struggled against his arms for a few minutes, doing everything she could to break free save headbutt him. His clawed gloves were digging into one of her shoulders and his  _ aether _ was stifling.”Let me  _ go _ Hades,” she said roughly, looking up at him as he held her against himself. He gave her one of his lazy smiles, “I don’t think I will, hero. You are far too much trouble if left alone.” The Warrior grunted as she tried to push against him. They both knew it was halfhearted, neither would bring their full power to bear against the other. She thumped him hard on the chest with her open palms. “I have to go, I  _ need _ to be there.” The Garleans, while ultimately unorganized with all the chaos in the empire, had made a small battalion and made a push into a corner of Ala Mhigo. A few of the Scions had left to help Lyse with the incident, it was only her and Y’shtola left at the Rising Stones. 

“You can’t help anyone right now.” He looked down at her evenly, smile gone. She set her jaw at that, he was right, but she couldn’t sit and do  _ nothing. _ “You were injured at the last summoning of Lakshmi. You  _ need _ to rest.” She was stiff in his arms, but not struggling. He sighed as he leaned his head down to touch his forehead to hers. Closing his eyes and holding her more gently he spoke. “Please love. Rest. Regain your strength, then you can traipse around to your heart’s desire. Fighting rebellion, primals and whatsoever you wish.” He rubbed her arm where his gauntlet had dug in, soothingly, and leaned back again. “But for now, rest.” She looked at him for a moment before huffing in defeat. Ignoring his chuckle she leaned into his embrace, his aether slowly subsiding around them. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his neck. He returned her embrace and she sighed, he was here at least, here, hale and whole. Maybe it wasn't so bad to rest for now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit, this prompt gave me a lot of trouble and it took me a long time to come up with something, so I ended up with this tiny snippet from an idea that is bigger.


	5. Matter of Fact (Emet-Selch/WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another really short one. I tend to enjoy these little prompts in snippets I'm discovering. :)

**Matter of Fact**

-noun

**Something that belongs to the sphere of fact as distinct from opinion or conjecture**

* * *

He had said it so matter-of-factly that she was stunned. A statement of truth, no discussion or argument allowed. With wide eyes and a shaky voice she turned toward him, “What?” He simply raised one eyebrow at her with a lazy, almost irritated look on his face, but something in his eyes told her he wasn’t as calm as he let on. He lifted one hand to gesture to the air, “You are my wife.” The Warrior blinked at him a few times, disbelieving. She knew they had some sort of connection, she felt it in her very being. He had done so much since his return to stay by her side as well, even  _ helping _ the Scions. They had been curious of his motives, even if, in his untempered state, he claimed they were the superior beings of the world that was left, and wanted to help them safeguard the star. He had only stuck by her side exclusively. Told them all that they were dear friends, once upon a time. Hythlodaeus had confirmed it, and even given her Azem’s stone, imbued with the words that Emet-Selch had said when making it. Was what he said true?

He shook his head with a sigh, throwing his arms up, black robes softly flaring. “I needn’t convince you of such. You and I were bound eons ago, it’s in our very aether.” Almost as if in demonstration, she felt his aether gently trickle toward her, and her own answering by trying to reach out for him. She stepped toward him a few times and tilted her head at him in curiosity. He gave a dramatic huff, but refused to meet her eyes. “I understand if you have feelings for another, there is no reason to choose this and you may take anyone as your lover that you wish, everyone knows there are masses chomping at the bit for it,” he stated the last part with a hint of bitterness in his voice. “I have even taken wives and sired children myself.” He looked away from her, still not meeting her eyes, but serious. “But this is the only one that matters.” She slowly walked towards him, he didn’t look in her direction but she heard the tone of his voice, there was a longing pain there, something under the surface. They were closer than they had been in the First,  _ friends _ even, and though they were close there was always a feeling of more between them. She wanted more of him, and she could tell he wanted more of her, even if it was largely unsaid. She made her decision.

Reaching out and placing her hand on his arm, she spoke softly, “Hades.” He turned to face her slowly, face guarded. She smiled sweetly at him, “I am your wife.” His eyes widened as she said it with as much conviction as he had told her originally. A truth she knew deep in her sundered soul to be true. For a moment there was stillness, then his aether flooded over her, feelings and things he could not say, swirling against her own, unprepared being. But it was overwhelming. She gasped slightly and it was almost completely gone, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Feeling him kiss the crown of her head, she heard him mumble, “Until all the stars die out. You are mine, and I am yours.” 


	6. Rare (Baidur/OC)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baidur is just the cutest man, go check him out in Reunion. :)

**Rare**

-adjective

**Unusually good or remarkable**

* * *

Baidur leaned forward against his stall, head propped up on his hand, elbows on the surface. He sighed. It was a slow day, and he had not made a single sale. He had been trying, he really had been. Listening to his customers had done wonders for his trade, he was making a profit now, but he slipped up now and then. Still he had made enough that returning to his tribe, he could bring necessities and some special goods they didn’t have normal access to. It was worthwhile work, even if it was full of long trips back and forth, from wherever his tribe had settled for the moment, to Reunion, to the Ruby Sea where he meets with the traders. But not even the long trips could alleviate his boredom today. His part of Reunion was fairly quiet for the moment, only a Mol member visiting the mender across the way. He returned a nod of acknowledgement when the Mender noticed him looking. Baidur let his gaze wander around as he took in the afternoon. Watching the few Xaela walk through he stood up sharply as one caught his eye, knocking his elbow on the stall too hard and wincing. 

He had noticed her more than a few times, walking through the market on her rounds. She was always helping as much as she could and seeming genuinely kind. He hadn’t spoken to her though, which wasn’t for lack of trying, she was Qestiri, he had found out shortly after making her acquaintance. She was always smiling at him, and he admitted he felt like wild yols were roaming his abdomen every time he saw her. Rubbing his elbow, he quickly smiled as she looked in his direction, her mask was on today, but he could see her eyes crinkle in a smile. She stopped in front of his stall and he quickly welcomed her. “Welcome back my friend! It’s nice to see you today, is there anything I can get you, or you just stopping by to say hi?” He heard the hum of a chuckle as she brought her hand to her mouth, looking at him joyfully. She gestured to his wares in a sweeping motion and tilted her head inquisitively to the side. 

Thinking for a moment he looked back up at her, “Oh, you want me to show you what I have?” He asked her, smiling. She gave him a nod as she removed the mask from her face and he felt a little giddy. She was beautiful... Snapping out of his momentary daze he fumbled over a few words as he started showing her the various knickknacks and items he had. He took note as she considered the karakul hide he had recently acquired. “Oh, and I have pretty things,” he said, as he pulled out a few more pieces of jewelry from under the top of the stall to sit beside the others on display. She looked over them, trailing her fingers over the fine craftsmanship, she seemed to be interested in that more than the actual items. He watched her closely as she looked over the items, and when she stopped and pulled her other hand up to her chest, he looked down to see what caught her attention. A simple braided silver necklace with a sparkling yellow gemstone in the middle. He smiled as she touched the delicate braiding, thinking to himself how the color very closely matches the color of her eyes. “Ah,” he said, recovering quickly, “That’s a yellow garnet, quite rare I hear. Lovely color though.” He gave her a kind smile and she beamed at him. 

She leaned her head forward and gave the item a tap as she tilted her head to the side. Baidur nodded at her. “One thousand and eight hundred gil,” he says, knowing it was a little more expensive than what he normally sold. Her eyes widened and she pulled her hand away, making a face. Baidur was disheartened at her reaction. He wished she could have it, he realized as he watched her go back to the karakul hide.He tells her how much it is before she can motion and she nods at him with a smile. Taking out her coin purse, she counted out the money and handed him the total. He bowed his head at her, giving her a big smile, “Thank you ma’am, I appreciate the support.” She nodded again to him, smile still on her face as she gathered the hide up and waved to him before turning and making her way to the Qestir khan’s hut. He watches her go with a smile, then once she’s inside, he starts rearranging his display and putting items back in their place. He stops as he picks up the necklace though and looks back toward the hut. Just maybe….

* * *

Most of the stalls were packed up for the day as Baidur made his way through Reunion that evening. He was looking for her. He hadn’t seen her since she bought the karakul hide and he wanted to speak with her again. Glancing toward the exit to the Steppe proper, he saw her standing guard by the gate and smiled, starting to make his way over to her. Looking in his direction, she nodded to him with a smile when she recognized him. He stopped a few feet from her, wearing his own smile. Standing there for a moment, he composed himself before trying to create some small talk, even knowing she wouldn’t  _ speak _ back per se. “The weather is lovely tonight,” he said as he looked up at the sky before glancing down to her. She nodded to him with a small smile as she glanced up to the sky herself. She pointed to one area and he looked in that direction. The last few colors of sunset were fading, making the night sky a swirling combination of purples and red hues bordered by navy, bleeding over the mountain. “That’s beautiful,” he said quietly to her. She gave him a happy smile in return. Gathering his courage, he reached into his pocket. “I uh, have something for you.” She tilted her head with furrowed eyebrows in confusion. He simply smiled as he pulled the small wrapped parcel out of his pocket and handed it to her. She raised a single eyebrow at him and he laughed. “It’s okay, go on,” he encouraged. She plucked the paper away from the item and her hand went to her mouth as she recognized it. She looked up at him with wide eyes. Reaching forward, he slowly picked up the necklace she had favored that afternoon and gestured to her neck, “May I?” She insistently pointed at the necklace. He just shook his head as he took a step toward her, unclasping the fastens. He spoke quietly and softly, stepping behind her, “You seemed to like it, and it suited you. I thought it might make for a lovely gift.” He gently placed it against her throat and fastened it securely. He adjusted it and let his fingers sit on her neck a moment longer. “It matches your eyes,” he said in the same soft tone. She turned in front of him with a shy smile and reached up to take one of his hands. Bringing it up to her lips, she gave his palm a sweet kiss. He gave her a wide smile and leaned down to nudge his horn against hers, which she returned with a blushing face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may actually write something longer about these two. They're just too precious to me.


	7. Nonagenarian (Emet-Selch/WoL)

**Nonagenarian**

-adjective

**of the age of 90 years, or between 90 and 100 years old**

* * *

“Eighty-eight.”

Emet-Selch blinked then looked up from the tome he was reading. It was the first thing she had said in bells and he boredly glanced at her from his lounged posture in the chair he was sprawled over. She was sitting at a table with tomes surrounding her, some open to various passages and some piled up. “What?” he asked her, nothing that she hadn’t even looked up from what she was reading. “Eighty-eight years old,” she said as she flipped the page. He furrowed his brows before marking his place and closing the smaller tome, sitting it on the table next to him. The number sounded familiar but he couldn’t place it. Unfurling himself from the chair, he stretched languidly once he stood, lifting his arms above his head and feeling his shoulders give a satisfying ‘pop’. The Rising Stones was blessedly empty today and he noted that the nosy lalafell wasn’t even at her desk. He made his way over to where the Warrior sat, trailing his fingers lazily over the tomes scattered haphazardly around her, making his way around the desk. When he reached her, he leaned over her head, placing his hands on either side of her on the table, effectively trapping her under himself. He took a glance at what she was reading from his vantage and saw the Garlean insignia marking a section of the page. Leaning further over her so that his chest bumped her head, he skimmed a few passages. “You’re reading a Garlean history book,” he stated disinterestedly. “Whatever for?” 

She hummed once then tapped the opposite page, “Learning about you.” Emet-Selch frowned at that, eyebrows furrowing again as he leaned down on the side she had tapped and read over the passage quickly. Laying his head on her shoulder, he looked at her with one eyebrow raised. “My dear, why are you reading about my death?” She turned her head toward him, merely ilms away with his head so close and sighed. “I’m highly disappointed in you,” she says, but he can see a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. He just looks at her for a moment, “For dying?”

She shakes her head slowly. “You only made it to eighty-eight.” Scoffing, he looks away. “My death was a highly orchestrated and technical procedure, meant to cause the most strife and discord in Garlean history.” He resettled his head and looked back at her in mock incredulity, “And you’re upset that I didn’t live longer?”

“You could have at least made it to ninety.” 

Rolling his eyes dramatically, he replied, “Well, I’m sorry dear hero that I didn’t make it to my nonagenarian years. I had a grand plan and that meant losing the two until then. Besides, I’ve lived over a thousand, thousand years. I wasn’t too particularly fussed about them.” She leaned over so that her forehead pressed against his, causing him to wrap his arms around her instead of leaning on the table. “Well, I’m glad.” She said, closing her eyes. 

“That I died at eighty-eight?”

She slapped his hands around her playfully in response. “No, that you’re alive. That you’re still  _ here _ .” He gently squeezed her in his arms as he leaned in to give her a gentle kiss. “Me too,” he whispered against her lips. 


	8. Clamor (Emet-Selch/WoL)

**Clamor**

-noun

**A loud and confused noise, especially that of people shouting vehemently**

* * *

The Warrior sat up gingerly, wincing as the bandages tightened around her shoulder. She saw Emet-Selch roll his eyes exaggeratedly out of her peripheral. Settling her shirt and buttoning her robes, she asked him quietly, “What?” From his position, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, he pursed his lips at her. “I don’t see why you have this  _ frustrating _ need to want to help every single soul you come across. You can’t help everyone, you should stop trying.” She frowned at that, “I try to help where I can. I know I can't help everyone.”He threw his hands in the air in an exasperated gesture. He pushed off the wall, with a scowl on his face, and stalked a few steps toward her. He gestured violently with an outstretched arm to the window next to him where a cacophony of voices ebbed and flowed. “And  _ what _ , pray tell, dear  _ hero _ . Os that?” he practically spat at her. “That is an angry mob. You cannot help an angry mob.” She turned her face away from him and looked toward the window. It was true the clamor outside was caused by an angry, and increasingly violent mob. Emet-Selch was angry with her, and she couldn’t really blame him, she had jumped in and taken the hit meant for someone else in one of those violent outbursts. She could feel his anger radiating off of him in waves, his aether almost stifling as it brushed around her. “Even you, my dear, aren’t stupid enough to believe that you can help them.” 

She bristled at that, setting her jaw as she looked up at him. She  _ was not _ stupid. “And what would you have me do?  _ Nothing _ . If it were your way, I wouldn’t involve myself in any of it.”

“ _ Exactly! _ ” he exasperated, gesturing to her. “If I did have it my way you wouldn’t ever have the need to put yourself in danger. Let alone, gallivant all over the star fixing other people’s problems.” She stood with a wince as she crossed her arms at him, settling her weight on one hip in agitation. “So what? All this talk about ‘ _ helping the star’  _ is all rubbish?” she said venomously. He sighed, one hand on his hip and the other pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not at all. I do mean to help you and yours, and help the star in the process. I simply mean that you need not put yourself in danger.” She deflated a little at that, still irate, but arms uncrossing. “Why? I do things that put me in danger on a regular basis.” He gave her a look that made her feel like an idiot, before rushing at her. “Because I love you. I don’t want to see you hurt, is that not enough?” He stopped ilms away from her, irritation still clearly visible on his face. She flushed. She knew that. She just didn’t think it affected her job so much until that moment. Looking down at their feet, she quietly mumbled, “I’m sorry.” She sighed quietly, she could feel the tension in the room sweep away, his aether trailing back as well. He gave a bored hum at that. Looking up at him, she saw his face was almost hurt, but very well hidden by the remnants of his irritation. She smiled up at him shyly and embarrassed now. “I love you too, you know.” She paused for a moment then said, “I understand now.” He sighed then raised his hands to her face.Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to her forehead and just stood there for a moment. “As long as you understand.” 

Leaning back, he looked toward the window then smirked at her. Walking over he started to say, “Now how about we go and tell them to….” Opening the window, he stuck his head out and yelled, “Keep it down!” Pulling his head in and closing the window, he dusted his shoulder off and started toward the door. “Coming hero?” he called over a shoulder lazily. She gave a laugh then started to jog after him. 


	9. Lush (Emet-Selch/WoL)

**Lush**

-adjective

**Characterized by abundance, opulent**

* * *

She snorted at that, looking over to where he was lounging across an armchair sideways. He raised an eyebrow in question at her, and she shook her head as she continued to clean weapons. “And what else? Did you have someone to wipe your ass for you too?” she asked, smirking at him. Emet-Selch thought for a moment, “No, but it probably could have been arranged.” He returned the smirk. The Warrior snorted again as she lay one of the weapons to the side, “Well I’m sorry that us smallfolk can’t compare to the luxury of the Imperial Palace.” He pulled himself off of the chair and started to make his way over to her. “All I’m saying is that you could get some to  _ do it for you _ . No doubt there are masses climbing over themselves to assist such a vaunted hero.” She shook her head as he leaned against the table next to her. 

With a smile, she looked up at him. “Well,  _ Your Highness,  _ we look after one another here, even if it’s just cleaning each other's weapons because the others are indisposed. And not hiring people to do it for us.” He sighed wistfully at her, giving her a small smile. “What I wouldn’t give to drown you in luxury, hero. You deserve it after all you’ve done,” he reaches out and taps her shoulder. “I’d put you in the finest gowns and jewels.” She wrinkles her nose at him. “I wouldn’t want that.” With a grin, he leans down closer to her, “ I know, but it would be so fun to see you squirm.” 

Giving him a playful shove, she picks up the next weapon and starts polishing it. Glancing at him after a moment, she starts, “Look at you now though, you don’t even wear your robes. How are we to tell that an Emperor is among us?” He rolls his eyes at her, then looks down at his own attire. “You know how you Eorzeans get when you see Garleans, torches and pitchforks, the lot of you.” He looked up to the ceiling for a few minutes. “You know what hero, I wonder how many Eorzeans would be shocked to find out that the Founding Father had helped them.”

She burst out in laughter at that. It was true, he had been with them for a few months, and not many had caught on that he was the first emperor. A few had mentioned that he looked similar, but nothing more than that. At her laughter he smiled, and leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek. He stood fully and started to walk away. “Where are you going?” she asked as she tried to calm down. He glanced over his shoulder and gave his customary wave, “To find a cloth, obviously  _ someone _ has to help you finish in a timely manner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always think of Emet-Selch being a bad influence on the Warrior in tiny ways like this. :P


	10. Avail (Urianger/WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this one being a little disjointed, the prompt was giving me conniptions and I didn't have a lot of time to focus.

**Avail**

-transitive verb

**Help or benefit**

* * *

Urianger had gathered everything he needed and was double checking the items. He heard Y’shtola yell from down the hallway. Gathering them up in his arms as quickly as he could, he all but ran down the hall to the Warrior’s room. On his way to the door, he moved past a group of Scions gathered at the door with worried faces. “C’mon everyone, clear the way,” Thancred’s voice came from inside the door. The Scions parted as Urinager slid past them into the room. 

Thancred was leaning against the doorframe inside and quickly shut the door behind the Elezen, stopping the other Scions from being able to see inside. Y’shtola waved Urianger over as she repositioned the Warrior. Their Warrior of Light lay bloodied and beaten across her bed, bleeding profusely from open wounds scattered across her side. Y’shtola cursed under her breath, removing the Warrior’s shirt. “Damn Gnath. How did they get that many crystals to begin with?” She gently placed her arms under their friend, under her shoulders and motioned for Urianger to move her lower half. He had to shake himself out of a daze, seeing her like this,  _ broken _ , had affected him more than he thought. He had healed her plenty of times while they were on the First, but seeing her so damaged struck a chord in him. “Urianger!” He blinked and then took the warrior’s hips as they positioned her to deal with the worst of the wounds. Once she was positioned, he and Y'shtola focused their aether, channeling healing magicks into the Warrior. 

Closing his eyes, Urianger focused on the wounds he could feel, letting his healing aether work in tandem with Y’shtola’s. He could feel each hurt knitting up cleanly as they worked and after a tense moment, they were finished with the worst of her wounds. Breathing deeply Urainger opened his eyes as he heard Y’shtola take a deep breath herself, then sighed. “Out of danger for the moment it seems,” she said as she leaned back for a moment to gather herself. “Is she stable?” Thancred asked quietly from the door. Urianger glanced back at him, turning away from their friend. “For the moment, ‘twould seem so,” he said with a nod. “I must thank thee for bearing her so swiftly home. ‘Twould not have been the easiest of tasks. Thou hath my most sincere thanks.” Urianger made his way back to the items he had gathered from their storage and began preparing them, handing Y’shtola a few in the process. Thancred frowned but nodded. “If only we didn’t have to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. We had no word the Gnath even had access to any crystals in moons, yet as soon as we entered the Forelands, they summoned their damned god.” Y’shtola was grinding some herbs together in a pestle when she spoke, “‘Tis passing strange, the timing of it all. We shall have to look into it come tomorrow.” Glancing up at the Warrior her tone softened, “But for now, we shall focus on our friend.”

Urianger had finished mixing part of the poultice together and handed the mixture to Y’shtola to incorporate it into the ground herbs. He took a moment to look at their friend closely, standing up and making his way to her bedside. Her wounds were bad but they had saved her from anything worse. They were still open and raw, but with the medicinal poultice and some time, she would be as good as new. He reached out to brush some of her hair away from her forehead and gently traced a cut there. Y’shtola’s voice was smiling as it quietly asked him, “And how does your dearest seem to be faring, Urianger?” He smiled a little at the jest, but it was true. “She seemeth to be on the road to recovery,” he said as he turned away from her and helped to prepare the bandages. Thancred smiled from the door. “You really should tell her you know,” he said, pushing off the frame and walking closer to them. Urianger smiled and shook his head. “I could not rightly put that pressure on her. Not when she carryeth so much across her shoulders already.”

Thancred clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “I think you’d be surprised, she may even welcome your affections my friend.” Urianger thought for a moment as he looked down at her, still in need of medical attention. “Perhaps.”


	11. Ultracrepidarian (Emet-Selch/WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was another hard prompt, my brain didn't want to function for it, so I apologize that it's so short. Just some tiny fluff. <3

**Ultracrepidarian**

-adjective

**Expressing opinions on matters outside the scope of one's knowledge or expertise**

* * *

They’re laying in bed together, both on their backs on their own separate sides. It’s still a little awkward to her, and he obliges the space. It’s not like she doesn’t end up tangled up with him by morning anyway. “And how would you know?” he questions with a dramatized tone of incredulity. Emet-Selch is staring at the ceiling, fingers laced and hands propped up on his chest. “We’ve discussed the things you have studied and you never studied the Garlean empire nor its infrastructure. You, my dear hero, are simply not  _ qualified _ to discuss such matters.”

She turned her head towards him, her own hands splayed across her stomach in a resting position. “I may not have studied it, as Urianger has, but surely I’m entitled to my own opinion.” She isn’t upset, simply debating him. She took in his profile, ilms away from her on the bed, and watched him as he frowned. “Yes, you can have an opinion, but it doesn’t make it  _ correct. _ ” She smiles at him, knowing that she’s found something that he disagrees with. He continues, steepling his pointer fingers gesturing as he speaks, still looking up at the ceiling. “You should take in the history that your kind have managed to mangle together over the years. Look to Allag, mayhaps your Exarch can assist you.” He was speaking as usual for this time of night, his thoughts simply running out of his mouth. At the mention of Allag however, he stilled. His fingers lacing again and a small furrow forming between his brows. 

“Hey,” she said, reaching up to touch his upper arm. He looked over at her, something unknown in his eyes. Something about Allag sat with him wrong now, since he became a Scion, every time she asked him, he changed the subject. Looking up at his eyes, she turned on her side and reached over to him, laying her hand over his laced ones. He shifted his hands and held her hand in return. “Well whatever it is, I’m sure I can learn about it. I’ll even get a study group together.” She grins at him, “Do you wanna be the teacher?” He smiles softly at her for a moment before rolling his eyes, “I don’t know, I would love the opportunity to teach you the ways of the world, but I don’t know if I can stand being in a room for you all for  _ so long _ .” He flops his arm over his eyes. She leans over and wraps her arm around him, settling into his side. “That’s okay, I like you all to myself.” Wrapping his arms around her, she felt his lips press into her hair. “As do I.” 


	12. Tooth and Nail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for injury with some details.

**Tooth and nail**

-adverb

**With every available means; all out.**

* * *

The world was fading around her. She could barely feel the dirt and grit underneath her as she slowly crawled, gripping tufts of vegetation with too-white fingers, and hauling herself forward. She couldn’t feel anything else really, and moving was difficult, she knew she was moving her legs, but how much, she wasn’t sure. Her mind was on that singular task. 

Uncurl fingers. 

_ Grip.  _

_ Pull. _

Uncurl. 

Her mind was blank, various thoughts only fleeting as she watched her hands. She thought vaguely of the Scions. Looking up she took in what she could of the combat, a black haze over her sight, making it hard to see, and fuzzy darkness creeping around the edges. She didn’t see them, with a single thought of how sad that was she looked down and continued her crawl. 

The sounds of combat were muffled, as if she had shoved her head under the water. At a bigger explosion that rattled her head she raised her head again slowly, looking at the burning mass of whatever landed and its subsequent collision, she lost herself for a moment in watching the dancing flames. Through her hazy vision, she could see the brightest oranges and reds in the flames. Reaching out absently, she almost thought she could touch them, even far away as she was. She wondered what it would be like to let them tickle her fingers, dance around her hand. 

But she had to be somewhere. Blinking at them a few times, she brought her hand back and looked at the ground again.  _ There. _ She dug her fingers into the dirt and pulled herself slowly forward. 

She watched her own dirty and bloodied hands become even more mangled as she continued, a few fingernails coming off completely as she went. Blisters forming and bursting and scrapes and cuts covering her hands with blood as she made her way over shrapnel and bullet casings. Broken potion bottles left small shards of glass in her hand as she mindlessly plucked out the larger pieces.

She was tired, sleepy. She couldn’t have explained why she couldn’t move anymore, simply that she couldn’t. She had grabbed a tuft of grass and could pull no more. If she couldn’t move, then she needed rest. She lay her head against the ground, her face touching the warm earth. She felt something drift into her eye on the side not against the ground and saw a hazy red blur the world even more. Blinking a few times, she accepted this new development and just lay there. She stared into nothing as she heard the battle ensue around her. Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a moment, she could get some rest…. 

* * *

“Oh no you don’t.” She was being jostled. Yanked up and contorted then settled. She wasn’t sure what was happening. She wasn’t even sure if the question in her mind got out. But she felt safe. That was okay. 


	13. Part (Thancred/WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first Thancred/WoL piece I've written. It's not too heavy in characteristics, but I hope I've done it justice. <3

**Part**

-noun

**some but not all of something.**

* * *

He sat stiffly in the chair next to her bedside. He shuffled uneasily as he readjusted his coat, recrossing his arms and closing his eyes again. One would have thought he was praying with his head bowed as it was and in the position he took. He was simply thinking. Thinking about all the times he shut his mouth and never said a thing. He had almost messed up with Ryne and was definitely messing up now. For as much a smooth talker as he used to be, he wasn’t very good with words that meant something. He remembered the Warrior’s face as he had left Ryne in Twine, her brows furrowed and frown on her lips. Her eyes had said it all, the disappointed, disapproving look she had given him. It tore at him to walk away from her and Ryne like that. He wondered how so many people could describe her as stoic when her eyes gave everything away like that. 

Frowning at the memory, he opened his eyes and raised his head to look at the Warrior, she was laying in the bed he was stationed next to. Her face was peaceful while she slept, though he had wished she would wake soon, after a few days, the chair was starting to become uncomfortable. It wasn’t just the chair though, if he were honest with himself. His brows lowered as his look softened while he looked at her. He had appointed himself as her guardian when they brought her back to the Rising Stones from the battlefield. He had found her crumpled on the ground, unconscious and broken. He remembered the panic when he couldn’t feel her breathing nor feel her heartbeat in his rushed check as he bolted across the field to the triage. The relief he felt was palpable when they told him she lived. But she had done her part, finished her objective to take out the Garlean general, so they had sent her away to recover. He bitterly wondered if they even really knew the woman behind the warrior.

As he looked at her now, he just wanted to see those expressive eyes again. He would endure every disapproving look and glare she threw at him as long as they opened. His favorite moments were when she would look at him with happiness gleaming through her eyes. Her expression always followed, but the way her eyes would crinkle when she was happy or the way tears gathered in them, but rarely spilt, when she was upset. She was a gentle soul with a good heart he had learned over time. 

A soft smile found its way onto his lips as he remembered some of the better times they had together. He remembers the first time he had met her, standing there in the Solar with the other Scions, her face even but her eyes apprehensive. He had asked about it later to a few of them and no one but Urianger had seemed to notice. He almost laughed to himself about the time he had danced with her and spinning her into his arms at the end, gave her a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth. The shocked look that she gave, eyes crinkling at the sides in mirth, was well worth the playful slap she had given his shoulder. 

He thought back to some of the more poignant moments they shared. The look she had given Y’shtola and himself when they had stayed behind in the bowels of Ul’dah. It was sad and disbelieving, he could tell that she knew they weren’t going to make it out if they stayed. She had nodded anyway, eyes full of that sorrow, and had led Minfilia away as they intended. He had thought about that look when he had left the Lifestream, stranded in Dravania. 

Thancred realized he was staring at her as he let his thoughts wander. He shifted his position again, putting his elbows on his knees as he looked over her. He truly had nothing better to do at the moment, so why not a bit of reminiscence? That look she gave him in the tunnels had haunted him, Minfilia’s had helped to almost sway his resolve but the Warrior’s.... Then, later in Dravania, he had heard a rumor of a warrior strong enough to slay Ravana. He had packed up his makeshift camp as swiftly as possible. It had taken him quite a while but when he finally caught sight of the Scions in their scuffle with the Warriors of Darkness, he had stopped at the sight of her. Something about her had changed, there was something harder, sadder about her. She carried a heaviness with her she hadn’t had before. He would never forget the look on her face that he managed to catch for just a moment as he intervened. Pure, unbridled hope had shone across her face as her eyes filled with tears. He had seen her hastily wiping her face as he had joined in. Changing his position by her bed once again, he lifted his hands to rest his chin in them as he remembered. After their short rendezvous afterwards, before their quick getaway, she had taken his hand and held him back for a moment. He had started to turn and question her, when he felt her suddenly in his arms, her arms wrapped around his neck. He had held her to himself reflexively, and gave her a squeeze when she had whispered in his ear that she was glad he was okay. 

He gave up on the new position relatively quickly. Instead, he stood, stretching his arms and back, before pulling the chair he was using, closer to her bedside. He paused as she shifted a bit, watching her closely. Once he was sure that she wasn’t waking, he continued. Sitting back down facing the bed, he leaned over once again, placing his elbows on the space next to her and clasping his hands together. He smiled again to himself as he remembered the expression she gave him as she rolled her eyes while he teased her about the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights. She had always laughed it off, saying that they were only friends. She had never done anything to suggest otherwise, but Thancred had remembered the feeling that had clenched in his gut at the other man’s efforts for her attention. He was more than sure that when he returned from Garlemald, he would find the two together, and hated to admit that he was more than pleasantly surprised when he had been wrong. 

Resting his head on his fist, he looked back at her face. She was so peaceful right now, not a trouble showing on her visage. He recalled her screaming his name at the meeting table when he had been called to the First. He could have strangled G’raha when he first arrived. But then time had passed, the other Scions came but she hadn’t. Years passed and he was giving up hope. He had met Ryne, and had less time to think of his Warrior. Instead, he began telling Ryne stories about her and all of her deeds. He made sure to always include the woman in the stories though, the one behind the title, Warrior of Light.  _ That woman _ was far more important and interesting to him. When he had seen her in the First, protecting Ryne, Thancred had to stop himself from faltering, the Exarch was counting on him to get them all out after all. They had run all the way to Il Mheg and finally allowed themselves to speak for a moment. When he turned however, the Warrior had almost knocked him over, he caught her and spun her around with a laugh that had matched her own. In his relief, he couldn’t help but lean over and press a kiss to her forehead. “It’s good to see you, my dear,” he had said to her, earning the brightest smile he had ever seen from her. 

As a result of everything and all the time he had spent with her, he wasn’t surprised when, while he was saying goodbye to Ryne, she had asked if he loved their Warrior. He hadn’t lied to her, he said that he didn’t know, but that he cared for her and Ryne had told him that he should tell her, no matter what  _ he _ thought was best. Thinking about that moment, he wondered when the Warrior had become such an integral part of his life. He still hadn’t told her of course, but as he watched her start to stir, he decided that it may be time. Leaning forward, and gently placed his hand on her forearm, he watched as those beautiful, expressive eyes blinked open, and met his. 

“Hello, darling.”


	14. Ache  (Hilda & WoL)

**Ache**

-transitive verb

**Suffer from a continuous dull pain**

* * *

The Warrior wiped her brow as she finished hefting the large piece of stone into the cart. The Elezen man that was helping her gave her a pat on the shoulder and a smile as he started to lift the cart and carry it away. She returned his smile and looked around her. The entrance to the Brume was coming along nicely, clean-up after the battle with Nidhogg and his horde was in full swing in all areas of Ishgard. She walked down the street a distance toward the remains of the Firmament, taking in all the people around her. Many residents of the Brume were working together to try and clean up rubble and broken walls, making chatter and leaving an excited energy behind. It was contagious as she smiled and took a detour to help a group of residents lift a section of wall back into place. After finishing, she took a closer look at the people around her and couldn’t help but be impressed. These people who had suffered a thousand years of war were seeing the first day without conflict, and they were _excited._ She would help them as much as she could, whether it be by influence or as she was now, physically helping them to pick up. 

She made her way down the street a little further and stopped to speak to a man about the Firmament, knowing that it would be months at least until it was open and available to start reconstruction. As she spoke to the man, he was delighted that she wanted to help, she caught sight of Alphinaud and gave him a quick wave as he helped a Hyur woman lead her children through the dangerous construction area. He gave her a small smile as he led the smallest child by the hand. The people were resilient, the war had seen to that, but now the years of pain and aches that it left behind could be mended. The Warrior smiled fondly at the children, they would know a life unburdened by the conflict of the past, they could have a chance to live in a time of peace, or at the very least not in a needless war with no end in sight. 

Turning her attention back to the foreman in front of her, she thanked him and was about to walk away when she heard a familiar voice call out. “Oi! Bloody hero!” Turning around she found Hilda walking toward her. She smiled at the woman as she walked to meet her. “I could say the same to you Hilda,” she said, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one hip. “How are you doing?” The young woman gave her a grin then shrugged. “I’m a’ight. Overseein’ some of the reconstruction. Some of the deeper parts of the Brume suffered some o’ the worst damage. Though whoe’er thought I was suited to the job may need to take another look around.” The Warrior shook her head, “I don’t think they could have found better honestly. Who else has the knowledge and resources to make sure that the places that need it most are getting the help they need?” She grinned at the rare sight of Hilda shuffling a bit, not enough to make anyone else think anything of it. “Yeah, well… It ain’t been easy,” the young woman said, recovering. At that the Warrior frowned, “No it hasn’t. It won’t be either in the coming months, maybe even years.” She looked around her before turning back to Hilda, “But if there’s anything I can do, let me know. I want to help get these people back on their feet.” Hilda nodded at her, “Will do, boss. There’s quite a lot yer lot can do if you have the time for it. Plenty needs doin’.” The Warrior gave her a nod at that. “Just let me or Alphinaud know, or send word to Tataru, she can make sure one of us gets the message.” Hilda hesitated for a moment before looking at her again, “Why do you care so much? ‘Bout us little people, I mean, here in the Brume.” The Warrior blinked at that for a moment before turning to the commotion around them with a frown. “Because they deserve it,” she said quietly, almost more to herself than the woman at her side. “These people, _your_ people have suffered for so long. Both highborn and lowborn have waged war for a thousand years, they deserve this. To rebuild and have a better chance without death and conflict knocking at the door.” She looked back at Hilda with a shrug, “It doesn’t matter that I’m not from here, or that a High House took me in. I just want what’s best for these people.” 

Hilda had no argument for that, giving her a grin, “Yer a good sort, hero. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” She gave the Warrior a hard thump on the shoulder, causing her to grin at Hilda. “You too, Hilda. No one looks after the little people like you.” Hilda gave a loud laugh, “Flatterer. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were taking lessons from that rogue friend o’ yers.” She grinned and shrugged as Hilda turned her head at a voice calling her. Hilda looked back to her, “Sorry, but I need to be goin’. I’ll let you know what we need, hero. See you around.” She gave the Warrior a wave as she started off toward the man who called her. The Warrior waved her off then turned back to the street before her. There was a lot of work to be done after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hilda is the most bad ass.


	15. Lucubration (Severian & WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He is one of my favorite guildmasters. <3 Spoilers for the level 50 Alchemist quests.

**Lucubration**

-noun

**Study; meditation**

* * *

He had laid his head down on the desk for only a moment… or so he thought. Rubbing his eyes, Severian gave a yawn as he ran his hand through his hair. He had been doing better at taking care of himself and fostering health habits after finally being able to say goodbye to W’nahja, but he did slip up every now and again. Now was one of those times. He frowned, taking a glance at the tome he was reading before settling down and didn’t remember a word of it. He sighed and rubbed his eyes again, he’d just have to reread that section tomorrow. 

He started to rearrange and tidy up the smaller area that was free on his desk when he spotted a cup of tea. He furrowed his eyebrows at it, raising one after a moment. He didn’t make any tea before falling asleep. He reached out to the cup only to find that it was still fairly warm. Now he was confused, taking a look around the guild, he didn’t see anyone. He shrugged and gave it a sniff, his favorite. After considering the possibility of poison, he threw caution to the wind and took a sip. It was delightful and just the way he preferred. Which meant that only one person could have made it. Giving a quiet sigh, Severian stood up and stretched, raising his arms above his head and lifting himself up onto his tiptoes. Sighing at the pleasant popping as his spine settled into place, he rounded the large boiler and spotted his prime suspect. 

His ever able assistant was curled sideways on a chair, head propped up on her arm against the table, snoring softly. He stepped closer to the Warrior of Light as she slept, careful to not wake her just yet as he took a nosy peek at her work. Glancing at an order from Ishgard and looking at what she had already accomplished, he gave a soft snort. Simply filling an order for Potions of the mind was far below her skillset, but he knew she would do it anyway, always helping where she could, that one. Leaning over, he carefully began to place a few reagents and vials upright, as he gave a soft smile. She may be his assistant, but he admitted that he was grateful for the care she had shown him. He would still be the ghost of a man, longing for a lost love if she hadn’t stumbled in the door one day with an aptitude for learning and alchemy. 

Finishing straightening up, he rounded the circular table and leaned down in front of his friend to wake her when he paused. Looking at her sleeping face and remembering all the cups of tea she had made him, he realized, though some part of him knew before. She really was his  _ friend _ . She cared for him, enough that she brought him gifts and would check in on him whenever she could, even if she was busy and only stayed a few minutes. She always remembered his nameday. She was the only one who did. And he realized that he was her friend too, he remembered her nameday and whenever she was around he would find himself incessantly chattering to her, which she seemed to enjoy. He would pester her and they would tease each other about various topics, her mostly about his skill as an alchemist. It was all in fun, and he enjoyed her company.

Severian smiled softly to himself, running a hand through his hair and then leaned forward. “Hey,” he said as he gently took her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Come my friend, it is far too late to be up and about. Least of all  _ working. _ ”


	16. Fade (Emet-Selch/WoL)

**Fade**

-intransitive verb

**Gradually grow faint and disappear**

* * *

She watched in numb shock as his hand passed in front of the hole in his abdomen. The horror was slowly dawning on her as she watched him toss back the hood of his robes. He gave her a gentle smile. 

“No.”

She whispered the word as her eyes started to flood with tears. He shook his head slowly at her. “Don’t cry, hero. We both knew this was coming.” She didn’t move, but she set her jaw. He didn’t move either, both seemingly determined to keep this one short moment between the two of them. 

She wanted to say something, anything, tell him that she wished things were different, that he wasn’t an Ascian, that she wasn’t the damned Warrior, that he wasn’t tempered… She knew there wasn’t time. She knew him though, somewhere deep in her shattered soul, she  _ knew _ . She had known him for a thousand,  _ thousand _ lifetimes. So she gave him the only words to him that she knew were worth it. 

“I love you,” she said softly, with conviction in her tone. His brows raised for just a moment in surprise before giving her an even sweeter smile. “I know,” he said with a hint of knowing in his eyes that would normally frustrated her. A distressed sound tore from her throat as she opened her mouth to continue, “I always have and I always will.” He looked at her with that soft smile and when he replied, it wasn’t the common tongue, but the odd, yet understandable sounds that the Amaurotines used. “ **‘And I will hold this precious gift of your heart until the end of time, until every star fades. And even then, there will be our love.’** ” She knew those words and she gasped a sob, hands clenching at her sides. 

She could only stare as the aether in his abdomen began to glow brighter. He nodded to her, “Azem, my dear…” He closed his eyes. He reopened them and looked at her, expression serious. 

**_“Remember.”_ **

She could only stare at him, tears spilling down her cheeks.

**_“Remember us. Remember that we once lived.”_ **

She gave a single, resolute nod. 

The smile he gave her shattered what was left of her heart. 

Then he faded away...


	17. Panglossian (Emet-Selch/ WoL)

**Panglossian**

-adjective

**characterized by or given to extreme optimism, especially in the face of unrelieved hardship or adversity**

* * *

“One day that wide-eyed optimism isn’t going to work for you hero, it will only serve to get you into trouble.” The Warrior shut her eyes at the intrusion, pinching the bridge of her nose at an increase in the headache she already had. “What do you need, Emet-Selch?” she asked, monotonously, not even looking in the Ascian’s direction. “What? No warm welcome this morning? Unusual for you, hero.” Gritting her teeth against the hazy vision of light in her senses, she turned to speak to him, but nearly crumbled when the sound of something shattering split her head, making her grab at her temple and bend over sideways in the chair she was sitting in. 

She tried to push herself up quickly to recover, but the light bit back at her. “Easy now. Just go slowly,” his voice sounded so near to her and when she came to her senses somewhat, she felt his hands on her shoulders. She opened her eyes to find him kneeling in front of her, hands bracing her to keep her upright in the chair. “Feeling better, hero?” he murmured to her as she winced a little. She nodded to him, rubbing her forehead. He leaned a little closer to her, as if inspecting her. “This is what I mean. You go through all this trouble to save everyone else, and tell everyone that everything will be alright when it’s clearly not,” he gave her a once over. She furrowed her brow at him, and finding her creaky voice, replied. “What would you have me do then? Wallow in despair and constantly tell others that there’s no point? There’s no hope in that,” she croaked out to him. 

Emet-Selch leaned back until she was almost arm’s length away from him, still being supported somewhat by his hands. “Hope, hero? Have you not seen this world and its inhabitants? They have little to hope for.” He watched as she squinted at him in defiance. “That’s where you’re wrong, Emet-Selch.” He started a bit at his title, the way she had said it sounding so familiar. He sighed as she continued, “There is always something to hope for, something worth fighting for and carrying on over. You may call it ‘wide-eyed optimism’ but it’s truly hope. I see this broken world just as you do, but then whereas you see all the things it lost, I can see all the things that still remain. I see the land flourishing where it can, cities being rebuilt and maintained, and the people… I see the people fighting and striving for more. For their homes, for family, for love.” 

He watched her as she spoke, her words did touch him, but he would never let her know. Her passion and yes, her hope shone through the way she animatedly told him everything she took in and her world. He so dearly wished he could be as optimistic as her. When he saw her, she was the ray of light to his days, she brightened up everywhere she went and everyone she touched.  _ She always had. _ He was well glad that she had not lost that quality, even as broken and incomplete as she was in this state. He’d have her no other way. 

“You’re right, I can’t see that in them.” He let go of her shoulders unceremoniously, almost letting her fall out of the chair on her face. He winced internally at that, it was unintentional. He stood in front of her. “I can’t say that I’ve ever met anyone as panglossian as you though, in my many years. I’d take that as a compliment if it weren’t so infuriating. You need to take care of yourself more.” He gestured to her current state. “As light-ridden as you are at the moment, I’d be sure to be more careful.” She frowned at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Your concern is duly noted,” she said, almost curious at his concern for the care that he had tried to hide. “Good,” he said, clapping his hands together, “Now hero, I believe we had plans for breakfast, tell me what you’ve ordered and I can tell you if it’s to my standards.” She rolled her eyes at him at that, giving him a rather fond look. “It’s never to your standards, but I ordered a little of everything they offer so you can pick and choose to your heart’s content.” He gave her a grin, “Perfect!”


	18. Where the Heart Is (Urianger & WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not necessarily Uri/WoL, but if you squint. More of a friendship moment.

**Where the Heart Is**

-idiom

**The phrase means that no matter who you are with or where you are in the world, your family and home always have the deepest affection and emotional pull. It is the place where you have a foundation of love, warmth, and happy memories. It might not always be the building itself, but being near your loved ones.**

* * *

The Warrior smiled as she sat and watched her friends fight. Nothing dangerous, just a routine quelling of the morbol population near Revenant’s Toll. She was taking a break, sitting on one of the embankments near the Tangle, watching her friends spar with the morbols and play with one another, while she mindlessly picked at some of the vegetation near her. They looked so carefree like this, easily dispatching the creatures but having fun with one another. She was so glad they were all home, including G’raha, who at the moment was grumpily shaking water off of his ears that Thancred had sprayed him with with a well placed gunblade shot. Thancred was doubled over laughing, when she saw the mischievous gleam in G’raha’s eye. The next second, Thancred was on his back in the shallow pools and G’raha was snickering to himself. She shook her head, smiling fondly at the sight. 

She noticed that Alisaie had seen what happened and was up to a little trouble of her own, she quietly and very barely gave her brother a zap, claiming that she had extended her spell just a little too much. The Warrior didn’t believe it either, nor did Alphinaud as he eyed his sister warily. Meanwhile, Y’shtola looked as if she had a vendetta against every morbol she saw, obliterating them in fire and ice, and occasionally stone. 

Looked to her side as Urianger took a seat next to her, giving her a smile as he settled. “‘Twould seem that everyone is resettling easily,” he gestured to the view of their friends in front of them. She nodded, giving him a large smile, “They seem to be enjoying themselves, too.” She turned to him, giving him her full attention for the moment. “How are you feeling though? No side effects or anything from returning to your body?” Urianger shook his head, “Nay my lady, I have not encountered any ill effects from the transference. If I may, the only ailment that plagueth me, is my own fatigue.” She gave him a nod in understanding, they had all been fatigued since the return, but it seems to be something normal and easing with time. Thancred, Urianger, and Y’shtola seemed to suffer most, being away from home the longest. She idly thought on it as she turned back to watch her friends. 

“A gil for thy thoughts, my friend?” She blinked then turned back to Urianger. He chuckled and replied to her questioning look, “Thou art lost in thought it seemeth.” She laughed at that, “I guess I am.” Looking back to the others and glancing at Urianger ever so often, she began to explain. “I’m just happy I guess. I’m glad that you all are back and still hale and whole. There was a while, when you all had left, that I worried you would never return.” She shook her head with a sad smile. “I kept hoping, as long as you all were alive in those beds, I had hope. I would find a way to wake you all.” She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. “I don’t want to lose anyone else. Haurchefant, Ysayle, Minfilia, Papalymo…. Emet-Selch.” She felt Urianger put his hand on her shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze. She looked at his face, “For those we have lost, and those we can yet save.” He gave a nod at her words and returned her smile. “Aye, ‘tis the most we can strive for. And strive we will.” She reached up with her own hand and gave the hand on her shoulder a squeeze. Yes, as long as they surrounded her, as long as they came home, they could work toward everything with a smile. 


	19. Foibles (Emet-Selch/WoL)

**Foible**

-noun

**A minor weakness or eccentricity in someone's character**

* * *

“You know, I think we could consider this a character flaw.” 

Emet-Selch opened his eyes to look at the Warrior. She stood there with a smile on her face and her arms crossed. He raised an eyebrow at her and she sighed, taking in his position. He was perched on her wide windowsill, back propped against the window’s frame, legs straight in front of him, and arms and ankles crossed. “What? Me trying to take a nap? That hardly counts as a flaw to my character, hero.” He leaned his head back against the frame and closed his eyes once more. He heard her take a few steps closer to him, “And what of this?” He opened his eyes again, then looked to the ground where there was a group of trinkets and plants, gathered in a small area. He looked straight into her eyes, “They were in the way.”

The Warrior lets out a snort, walking to the other side of the windows and pushing his legs gently off the sill. He allowed it and watched as she took her own seat, curling her leg up on it and leaning against the frame. He resettled his legs, mimicking her stance with one leg on the ground and the other curled on the narrow lip. She gave him a smile with her eyebrows raised. “So, did you do what I asked you to do?” she asked, a hint of mirth in her tone. He looked at the ceiling while he thought for a moment. He paused that way for a moment before looking back to her with an “Ah”. She leaned her head forward to look at him instead of leaning it back against the window frame. “You asked me to gather the targets the Scions were using for practice in the field outside the gates.” She gave him a nod, and he simply looked at her, normal bored expression on his face.

“And did you do it?”

“No.”

She let her head thud back against the frame again. “Will you do it before the day is out?” He gave her a smirk and leaned forward, “After my nap?” She rolled her eyes at him, and he raised one hand to his chin as if he were thinking. He reached up and snapped the fingers of his other hand, and gave her another smirk. “Done.” She furrowed her eyebrows and leaned forward with a curious look on her face. He gestured to the side dramatically, “‘Twas a simple task, and now I have completed it. Now I am free to return to my nap.” She sighed, giving him a fond smile. “Maybe I should ask you to do more things around here, if that was so easy for you.” He frowned, “Perish the thought, I’d never have time to sleep as much as I want.” She laughed quietly at that, “We all can’t be sorcerers of eld with immeasurable power now, can we?” He gave her a smirk, “You should let me show you some of the things a sorcerer of eld can do…” He laughed as she gave him a swat, making him turn sideways to catch himself so he wouldn’t fall. “You wish, Hades.” 

“Oh, I do.”


	20. Argy-bargy (Emet-Selch/WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to note, theirs is an established relationship in this one.

**Argy-bargy**

-noun

**Noisy quarreling or wrangling**

* * *

“You shouldn’t go.” 

She quickly turned to face him, “We are not discussing this again. I _am_ going.” She had said it with a finality he couldn’t argue, but would try nonetheless. Emet-Selch sighed dramatically as he continued, “The Alliance leaders have three Grand Companies they control, not including Ishgard’s forces, surely they can send a squad instead of a lone woman.” The Warrior stopped again suddenly, almost tripping over the Mor Dhonan landscape as they climbed a small hill. He had followed her when she told him that she was going to take care of the nix that had strayed too close to the town, with the intent of bringing up the current subject. 

“Yes, and that would put more lives in danger than need be. Better to send one than many.” He stopped a small distance away at that, crossing his arm. “And what?” he snapped, “Is your life worth less than theirs?” She gave him an incredulous look, “No, but one life is a better risk to take than a whole squadron.” He stood his ground, narrowing his eyes at her, “Not to me it’s not.” His tone was cold, his voice deeper with the emotion. She clenched her fists at her sides, “Well your opinion doesn’t matter, I’m the only one who can do it.” He threw up his hands, stomping over to her, stopping a few feet away. “And why only you? _Hmm?_ ” He snapped at her viciously, “Only Hydaelyn’s chosen can be put through her paces to do such a _mundane_ task as this. Only a great _Warrior of Light_ can dispatch of a few bandits hiding in the hills.”

She huffed a breath at him, her body tensing. “Yes! Because it’s safer that way! It’s safer for everyone that way, to make sure the job gets done, and to lessen the risk!” He couldn’t help the way his aether flared a little in his frustration but she stood her ground, her own keeping her steady. “But why _you_?” he repeated, “ All you are is a pawn to their games! Like you said, to make sure the job gets done.’Oh let’s send in the Warrior, she’ll finish the task. It doesn’t matter if her life is in danger, we wouldn’t want to risk _ours_!’” She shoved at him as he got closer, the attempt half hearted though and he only teetered from the action, face scowling at her.  
  
“Because it’s always me!” she yelled. He stood up straighter, away from her, scowl lessening but not leaving his face at her outburst. “There’s so many damn things that have to be _me_! So they send me because I’m dependable, I’m reliable.I’m the only one who can fight the primals, the only one who has fought some of the most dangerous beasts.” He watched as she started to deflate. “There’s so many things that only I can do, so it makes sense to send me.” She stood there, body having lost its tension. “I just....” She gestured to nothing. 

The Warrior put her hands over her face, and he grew still. Breathing in deeply, shakily, “I’m just so tired,” she said wearily, “So very, _very_ tired.” She dropped her hands and looked into his face with eyes full of unshed tears. She tossed her hands to the side in an exasperated gesture, letting them fall back to her side as she turned and took a seat on the embankment.

Emet-Selch watched her carefully, taking in her demeanor and once she sat down, he slowly made his way over to her and sat down next to her. They didn’t say anything for a long moment, simply looking out to the scenery around them. He gently leaned his shoulder into hers, giving her a little nudge. Watching out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lips curl slightly as she returned the gesture. He thought for a moment before speaking to her, his tone gentle now. “I know that as lazy and useless as I may seem, I do work and am capable of a great many things.” He said it teasingly to her, showing no lingering effects from their fuss. She gave him a tired smile. In a quiet, serious tone he continued, looking down at his hands as he did so. “And if there is aught I can do to ease your burden,” he looked up into her eyes, voice sincere, “I would do all in my power to do so.” Tears spilled over her cheeks as she gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said quietly, reaching for him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he turned into her embrace. “Of course,” he whispered as she buried her face into his shoulder. 

He held her there for a moment just feeling her in his arms. “First thing I shall do when we get back though,” he said, smirking into her shoulder, “is place a muffling enchantment on our window.” He scoffed as he continued, “I mean _really_. Can we not have a night of peace and quiet around here? If I have to spend another sleepless night because of that damned blacksmith’s drunken pining over the merchant woman, I’ll wrap him up myself and present him to her, bow and all.” His smirk turned into a genuine smile as he heard her watery laugh. He could feel her shake of laughter in his arms, before she replied. “I’d love to see that… A giant bow right on top of Gerolt’s bald head.” 

“Then I should start my preparations.” Her laugh had more life to it this time, and he smiled at that. 


	21. Shuffle (Thancred & WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's just a short friend-fluff.

**Shuffle**

-verb

**Rearrange (a deck of cards) by sliding the cards over each other quickly**

* * *

She looked over her cards at him as he gave her a wide grin. The Warrior gave a huff and narrowed her eyes at her cards, causing Thancred to let out a hearty laugh. “It’s okay if I win, you know.” She turned her narrowed eyes toward him and it did nothing to lessen his grin. “I’m trying here,” she said grumpily. He switched a few of his own cards around and waited for her to make her move. After taking a moment to deliberate once more, looking between the Triple Triad board and her hand, she took a Coeurl card and placed it in a top square. He gave her a wicked smile and placed an Ixal next to it, “I win.” He took the nuts they were using as bets and popped some into his mouth, trying not to laugh at her pout. “But how?” she asked, exasperated at him, and standing to lean over the board and take a look. He pointed to the Ixal card, it’s a Plus rules game remember? Both of these sides match, so these flip to my side.” She gave another huff, and crossed her arms with a furrowed brow, glaring at the board. “I’m never going to learn this.” He gave a laugh at that, offering her a few of the nuts he had won, and she took a few, placing them in her mouth and chewing slowly as she sat back down. 

“You’ll get it, don’t worry. Besides, if primals can’t defeat you, I know you won’t let a card game,” he said as he gathered his own cards and slid them back into the bigger collection he had. “I’m glad you think so,” she grumbled as she took her own cards and compared them to her deck. He gave her an encouraging smile, “Come on, you’re smart, I know you can do it. Besides, you did ask me to teach you and you’ve never really played before this sennight. You’re doing really well for the time spent.” The Warrior looked at him, suspicious of the praise, giving him a raised eyebrow. “Thank you, I think.” Thancred shook his head at his friend, “It is a compliment, I assure you.” She gave him a smile, “Really though, thank you for being patient with me.” Thancred waved the thanks off. “It’s the least I could do, teach my friend some strange card games so she can con her way into a fortune. My misspent youth can indeed be useful.” She threw a handful of nuts at him playfully as they both laughed. As he picked out another deck he swept some nuts off the board, “Now, let’s try again. No rules this time.” She sighed with a smile and began to go through her cards again. 


	22. Beam (Emet-Selch/WoL)

**Beam**

-verb

**(of a light or light source) shine brightly**

* * *

The light had blinded him, he shielded his face with his arms as he scowled. As it faded, it wasn’t her voice that spoke and he looked at her carefully. Her mouth had moved but it was a man’s voice that spoke, he didn’t have time to wonder though, as she finished speaking another bright flash sparked. “No, it can’t be…” He saw  _ her _ . Standing there with her mouth in a line, her dark mask covering her face, and he remembered so vividly that he could almost see her hair escaping that mask and her hood. And then it was gone. He tore his eyes away from her. He wasn’t stupid, he had seen the color of her shattered soul. 

“Bah, a trick of the light,” he had to turn his eyes away, the sight too much. “You are a broken husk, nothing more.” And he wished the words were true, but her soul shined so bright and beautiful to him in that moment. He was angry and furious, but he was tired and deflated. 

The Exarch appearing had been a surprise to him, maybe he was losing his touch after all. The infuriating miqo’te had  _ somehow _ summoned other Warriors of Light. And now he stood to face her and those blessed by Hydaelyn. Irritation and incredulity flared with his aether as he watched her. She shouldn’t be anything but a shade!  _ A mockery of who she once was! _ But there she stood, glowing almost as bright as she once had, with  _ her _ spirit,  _ her _ determination. 

No! No, no, no ,no, no. NO! It couldn’t end like this! Not after  _ so long _ . She wasn’t whole, she would never be whole again. But she was  _ there _ . And he could see it on her face, her mouth set in a line, resolute. She was so much like she used to be. The rage and sorrow battled inside him, furling around one another and shredding his emotions. 

He took a moment and made his decision. This would be how it ended here. Somewhere deep down, he knew he couldn't bring himself to kill her. This woman who was the light of his life,  _ even now _ in this shattered and broken state. He would fight, for his brethren, for  _ their _ brethren. And if he fell, he knew he could trust her to do the best she could, he was always able to. Seeing her soul shine brightly in front of him, he knew that this shattered soul, no matter how  _ wretched and broken _ it was, was strong and loving enough to safeguard whatever future the star and it's shards held. So he cast away pretenses and met Azem as Hades.


	23. Wish (Emet-Selch/WoL)

**Wish**

-noun

**A desire or hope for something to happen**

* * *

He didn’t want to get up. He knew it was morning from the brightness behind his eyelids, which he scrunched closed and snuggled into the warmth and softness near him. Sleep was too good. He sighed, now he could hear the bird chatter and bustle of Revenant’s Toll outside the window. At his sigh however, part of the warmth he was currently pressed against, shifted with a small noise. He smiled against it, nuzzling into the shape more. He heard her make a small humming noise which warmed his heart. 

Emet-Selch reluctantly raised his head, scowling at the bright light coming in from their window as he blinked his eyes, trying to readjust from just waking up. As he finally did so, he smiled down at the bundle of sheets next to him. The Warrior was still asleep, face half buried in a pillow, tangled in her half of the sheets and blanket. He sat up enough on his stomach to lean his elbow on the bed and prop his chin up on his palm. 

Looking at her like this, you would never think she was a hero. Her face was peaceful, mouth slightly open and snoring softly. He gave a little snort at that, the hero of the realm snores. Who would have thought? He gave a soft smile as he looked at her, just taking the moment of peace and quiet to observe her and look over her. Unbeknownst to him, a soft and gentle smile played over his lips. To be here with her…like this even…. All of this was a dream come true, every wish he could have ever had. Who would have known that any of this would have been possible, that he could return untempered, that he could have this chance with her…

It was melancholy to a degree, all of his lost brethren, but maybe it was for the better. Being untempered now, he was starting to think of the things he had done, the actions he had taken in the name of the Rejoining. She gave a slight frown but the thought passed as he watched her continue to sleep peacefully. She had let him stay at her side, stay with her and make amends, and she didn’t condemn him for them. His eyes shone a little as they watered with the thoughts, but they were tears of relief. Relief that she was her and so forgiving. 

Emet-Selch sat up on the bed and leaned over her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her to him as he lay with her. She awoke when he had wrapped his arms around her, tensing for just a moment before letting him move her. “Hades?” she asked, voice rough from sleep. He pulled her tighter against him at that. “Just taking in the moment, love,” he said, carding his fingers through her hair. This was all he ever wanted. Even with the final days and before that with his work in the convocation. 

_Just this_. 


	24. When Pigs Fly ( Aymeric/WoL )

**When Pigs Fly**

-idiom

**used to say that one thinks that something will never happen**

* * *

The Lord Speaker of Ishgard had come to pay the Scions a visit in Mor Dhona. It was a surprise to say the least, none of the Scions had really expected any of the Alliance leaders to actually come to see them home in person. The Warrior had run to the gate when the guard had come to the Rising Stones stating that the small entourage had included First Commander Lucia at first sight. She beamed when she saw her friends finally reach the gate. Arriving at the Rising Stones, Tataru had thrown together a small get together in the large headquarters with refreshments and the promise of a dinner large enough for all. It was after a bit of introductions and catching up that the Lord Speaker and Warrior had found a moment of quiet to share between just the two of them. 

Aymeric laughed fully as she had finished telling him exactly how Feo Ul had threatened many pixies numerous times about leaving the contents of her bag strewn around Il Mheg. “It seems to me that you can’t stay away from trouble when it comes to finding the most mischievous locals.” She laughed at his words, giving him a nod, “I suppose so, but what can I say? I try to help where I can.” He shook his head at that. “You help too much, my friend,” he said with a fondness that made her feel a little shy. He took a look over the room filled with Scions and the soldiers and chaperones that had come with him. “Lord Edmont sends his regards, and wishes dearly for you to pay House Fortemps a visit soon,” he said to her, reminded of the man’s request. She beamed at him, giving a nod as she responded. “I will, first chance I get. I would very much like to see them.” Aymeric gave her a small nod at that, then gave her curious look, furrowing his eyebrows. “Am I really the first delegate to welcome the Scions back? I thought that the other Alliance leaders were promised to arrive.” 

She snorted at that, “Yeah, the Alliance leaders will visit us when pigs fly in Mor Dhona.” She blanched at him as she realized what she had said, then winced, giving him a sheepish look. “I shouldn’t have said that, my apologies.” He was giving her a small smile with a twinkle in his eye. “Far be it for me to say anything, I happen to be far worse when it comes to propriety,” he said quietly to her as he raised his glass to sip at his drink. The Warrior gave a small chuckle as she smiled at him. “I would think Hien and Yugiri would probably come if Doma weren’t across the sea. But other than that, no, I guess I don’t believe I will see them come pay us a visit.” He gave her a mischievous look, “I see now that the Warrior of Light plays favorites.” He was teasing her, she knew and she gave a light laugh at it, but looked somewhat serious as she answered, “Of course I do, you know Ishgard is my favorite.” He chuckled in return at that and looked across the room filled with people for the occasion. 

“Why  _ did _ you come to Mor Dhona?” He was caught off guard at her question and lowered his glass to look at her. She was smiling up at him in that happy way she does and for a moment he almost blurted out the truth.  _ I came to see you. _ “Uh,” he said in a rare fit of ineloquence, before continuing, “You and yours have done so much for Ishgard and her people, it would be remiss of me to not pay a visit to see you all returned safely.” It had even seemed a little stiff to his ears near the end. Her smile widened at him, becoming almost wistful for a moment. He blinked at that, he wasn’t sure what to think of it, but he recovered his expression and took a leisurely step closer to her as she raised her own glass to take a drink. “I came to see you home, hale and whole.” He had said it quietly, trying to lessen the chance of being overheard, but when he saw her eyes widen and turn to him, he looked away, back over the crowd, holding his drink between the fingers of both hands. He wasn’t sure of her reaction and did not want to face any rejection she would give him. Instead, he felt her place her hand on his arm. He was nervous as he looked down at her hand, then up to her face. 

Aymeric looked up into the Warrior’s smiling face, a light blush tinting her cheeks. Her shy smile was endearing as she looked down at her hand on his arm before speaking, “Thank you.” Her tone warmed his heart and he reached his opposite hand over to lay it on her hand atop his arm. “You’re most welcome,” he said, his voice slightly rough with withheld emotion. She squeezed his arm gently as she looked into his face. He gave her a gentle smile, his eyes twinkling as they stood in their own little corner of the world in that moment. 


	25. Irenic (Emet-Selch/WoL)

**Irenic**

-adjective

**Aiming or aimed at peace**

* * *

The Warrior was bored out of her mind. She was at the conference at the behest of the Alliance leaders, a guest of honor, the one person who had helped to bring them together. She was so  _ thrilled. _ She leaned against the pillar in the ballroom of the palace in Ala Mhigo, staring into the crowd in front of her, not really focused on anything. She idly sipped the drink that she held, not even really knowing what it was other than the fact that Y’shtola handed it to her with a murmur of, “You’ll need it.” She was right, the amount of people that had swarmed her up to this point had been baffling. The drink had worked well to calm her nerves but she still was uncomfortable here. Her friends had helped, both those in the Alliance and out, but she was grateful for the moment of respite. “Oh, how  _ droll _ .” Or she was…

Brought back to the moment, she looked to her side, Emet-Selch was leaning against the same pillar on the side next to her. She rolled her eyes and looked back into the ballroom. “Really though, do they think this is  _ entertaining _ ? The crowd in that insufferable market we call home is more entertaining than this. At least have a show or performance of sorts. If they were as irenic as they claim, at least keep people from dying of sheer boredom.” She couldn’t quite stifle her smile at that comment. The fact that he thought Mor Dhona was more interesting wasn’t surprising, but it did cheer her up that he referred to it as  _ their _ home. She looked over the people with more focus now, still not responding to him. 

“And the food,” she almost spit out her drink as he spoke as she was taking a sip. He paused before she heard him continue, “The food is bland and  _ barely  _ edible. Who catered this little soirée? Moogles?” She snorted. Having to take a moment to wipe her eyes from watering after the painful action and the silent laughter she was hiding. She took a peek over her shoulder to see him with that smug smirk on his face, looking at her. He had his arms crossed and had his ankles crossed as he leaned against her pillar. She gave him a thankful smile, her eyes twinkling at him. He gave her a nod before turning back and starting another round of complaints, this time she could see the boredom and scowl on his face. Leaning against the pillar again, she took a sip of her drink with a small smile. The night seemed much more bearable. 


	26. Paternal (Edmont & WoL)

**Paternal**

-adjective

**Of or appropriate to a father**

* * *

The Warrior had let herself in, the key to the manor tucked safely back into her pocket and she was walking, boots in hand, through the hallways to her room. She hadn’t intended to arrive in the dead of the night, but had been waylaid by some people in need of an escort through the Highlands, so she had offered since she was coming to Ishgard anyway. The moon was high in the sky and she didn’t want to wake any of the servants, so she just went in through the back servant’s quarters. She crept quietly down the hallway but noticed a light coming from one of the rooms. She knew it was Edmont’s study, but she hadn’t thought he would be up. Creeping closer, she peeked her head into the doorway. 

At his desk sat Lord Edmont de Fortemps, head propped on his hand as he looked over some papers, dressed in his nightwear. His robe was tugged loose at the top and she smiled as he gave a small yawn while he read. She decided best to leave him be, even if she wanted to say hello, he’d probably be back to bed soon if she didn’t announce herself. Care to not make a sound, she tried to walk quietly past the door. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were back.” She stopped with a smile and turned to the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you.” He gave her a tender smile, “Nothing to disturb my dear, just doing a little late night reading since I couldn’t sleep.” She walked into his study and he gave her a good look, “Did you just get in?” She gave a light laugh, “Yeah, I didn’t want to wake anyone so I just came in the servant’s entrance. I was planning on surprising you all in the morning, since it’s far too late right now.” He shook his head at her with a fond smile. “Then allow me to be the first to welcome you home,” he said to her gently. She gave him a smile, and her eyes started tearing up. It felt so good to be  _ home _ . To be with family and have everyone back safe and sound. 

He gave a frown and stood from his desk, walking around it to face her when he noticed her tearing up. She gave a wave with a sniffling laugh, “I’m okay, I’m just so relieved. And to hear you say that…” She gave him a watery smile and he sighed, wrapping her in his arms. She buried her face into his robe, hugging him fiercely back. “Of course I will say it, you are part of our family and you always will be. Not just for everything you’ve done, but for who you are.” He gave her a little squeeze, “You are my child as much as Emmanellain, Artoirel, and Haurchefant.” She hiccupped a little at his words but felt so safe right in that moment. As if the world didn’t depend on her and there was no fighting to be had. Edmont rocked them a little for a few moments. “You remind me so much of Haurchefant, you know.” She gave another small laugh at that, giving him a squeeze this time. “I’m glad he brought you to us.” 

“Thank you,” she said quietly, burying her face into his robed chest. She was so grateful for everything he had done. “You’re a good man Edmont.” She chuckled and she felt it reverberate through him. “I don’t know about that. I try to do the best I am able,” he said gently. She nodded, “It’s still good.” Embraced in his fatherly affection, she began to truly relax and feel the stress melt off of her. Standing there in his arms and with the warmth of his study and softness of his robe, that safe, secure feeling seeping over her, she let out a large yawn. She felt him more so than heard him chuckle at that. “Alright, let’s both get to bed. In the morning you’ll have to tell us everything you’ve been up to, the letters only ever tell so much.” She nodded, reluctantly letting go of the man that really was her father. He put his arm over her shoulders as he walked them both to the door and sent her off to her bedroom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elf Dad is best Dad. <3


	27. Splinter (Estinien & WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight Doman Enclave Restoration spoilers.

**Splinter**

-noun

**A small, thin, sharp piece of wood, glass, or similar material broken off from a larger piece**

* * *

The Warrior watched as Estinien took his glove off to, once again, nibble on his ring finger. She had run into him in the Doman Enclave while making a few donations to the reconstruction effort. Kozakura had mentioned that he was there to her, though she suspected only because the Dragoon wanted to be found. She had indeed found him, and now the two were sharing a meal at the Ten Thousand Stalls. She watched as he chewed on his finger, then furrowed his eyebrows, looking down at it in a scowl, ran his thumb over it, then continued to eat. He hadn’t replaced the glove this time so she wondered if he had solved whatever was to be fixed by chewing on his finger. She tilted her head, her own brows furrowing but continued her own meal. 

It wasn’t ten minutes later when he once again began gnawing on his hand. “What _are_ you doing?” she asked, as he sat his surume down on his plate. He raised a brow at her, finger still in his lips. He looked down at it before looking at her. “‘Tis nothing,” he said with a wave then began to eat. “If it were nothing, you wouldn’t be trying to bite your own finger off every few minutes. Unless you’re that hungry and can’t wait to order again?” she deadpanned at him. Estinien narrowed his eyes at the Warrior. With a sigh he shoved his hand out toward her, and she took it, looking at the irritated area he had been biting at. Not seeing anything amiss at first glance she raised her eyebrow to him. 

“A splinter.” 

“A splinter?”

“Aye.”

She blinked at him. After he didn’t offer any more explanation, she took his hand and brought it close to her eyes as she searched the skin. Ah. A tiny sliver of…. something, buried the crease of his knuckle. Gently with her fingernail, she maneuvered the little shard around a bit. Taking a glance up at Estinien, she saw him frowning. “Just give me a second, it’s coming out.” With a few more presses, she had coaxed it out. A tiny little splinter that had wedged in his hand when he had grabbed something presumably. She wiped it on her napkin. “There, all done,” she said, releasing his hand. He took it back and inspected it, clenching his hand. With a nod to her, he went back to his surume. The Warrior gave a quiet laugh and went back to her own food. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Estinien.”


End file.
